


Whining

by bonelessbluemilk



Category: Sex Pistols (Band)
Genre: Coming In Pants, Cuddling, Fist Fights, Humiliation, It's non sexual tho, M/M, Roughhousing, Spanking, sid vicious is a massive weenie, that's the sexual part, this is horrifically indecent, you cannot convince me otherwise
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-10
Updated: 2020-04-10
Packaged: 2021-03-01 21:08:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,400
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23573635
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bonelessbluemilk/pseuds/bonelessbluemilk
Summary: Johnny is fucking tired of Sid bitching about everything all the time. They settle things in a fistfight. Things derail quickly.Or, the author has lost their goddamned mind.TWs in tags and in the beginning notes.
Relationships: Johnny Rotten/Sid Vicious, Nancy Spungen/Sid Vicious (Mentioned)
Kudos: 38





	Whining

**Author's Note:**

> TW for heroin, violence (although no blood), an air of dubcon, smut invloving real people, and me being nice to Nancy Spungen.  
> Not beta read so if you pick up an error feel free to lmk  
> Mandatory disclaimer: I don't know or didn't know the people metioned in this fic personally. The opinions expressed by these characters don't nessecarily reflect those of the author, or even the people whom they are depicting. In no way am I saying this acatually happened. This is a fantasy I wrote down for the reading pleasures of others. This is fiction.

Sid was driving Johnny up the fucking wall.  
This in itself was nothing too out of the ordinary. John was, to a degree, a controlling person, and Sid's sort of drift-around-with-no-common-sense thing irked him. At the same time, Sid was a pretty stubborn person as well, often storming away from Johnny with a "fuck off", "I can do it myself", "I don't need your help", or something of that sort. The only real problem that John had with this ideology was that, no, Sid normally couldn't do it himself, and that led to situations where he put himself in danger more often than not. And it really pissed Johnny off that Sid would still try to go through with it, despite the fact he was dimmer than a 5-watt and couldn't fight his way out of a paper crisp bag. And this was practically the normal, day-to-day exchanges the two had- quite the shaky recipie to begin with.  
Then you throw in that Spungen girl and you start a grease fire.  
You see, John put up with Sid's horse shit because John was his friend. He understood that Sid had it up the ass from the beginning and wanted desperately to keep things from getting any uglier before Sid landed himself somewhere he couldn't get out of. Nancy, on the other hand, he just had no time for. She sided with Sid, because of course she did, and often snapped at Johnny to mind his own damn buisness, that her and Sid could handle whatever mess he had gotten himself into. And, in some way, Johnny did agree with her- Sid should be able to do things on his own. He was a fully functional adult, and he should know how to do things like boil water, not say stupid shit to cowboys, and keep his head out of the oven (all of which were things Sid had failed at in one point or another). Her methods, however, that was a different story.  
Simply put, when Sid became too much of a trouble after a while, Nancy shut him up with heroin. John didn't nessecarily think her intentions were bad, he really didn't- he'd seen firsthand that after shooting up Sid was out for a good 3 hours and too high to function for another 5, and if Sid was giving her some really awful trouble- and it wasn't out of the realm of possibility that he was, especially if he was up on something else he was prone to breaking things and cutting up his arms- it was a temporary solution to the problem. Johnny just had no idea how you'd be so thick to think fucking heroin was the best option for this situation. Booze mixed with some over-the-counter shit had the same effect for about a half hour, a blunt worked for about two. But, because Nancy was an addict herself, her first logical thought was the same thing she used to calm herself down.  
Not that this was Sid's first brush with H- his mother was a registered addict and Johnny had no fucking idea what went on behind closed doors back in those days- but Nancy using it as a pacifier, a treat, certainly didn't help whatever echo of progress John hoped to make.  
Despite all this, Nancy was still delusional enough to think that she was the best for Sid. She could help him, save him, make him better. Johnny had to credit her to some degree, because at least she tried- she doted over him like a mother to her favourite child, making him meals to the best of her ability, constantly asking him if he felt tired of sick, scolding him gently for certain things that irked her. All that was dandy, John wasn't entirely against giving Sid a taste of motherly love he had been deprived of in his earlier years, but in this case, her destructive solutions greatly outweighed her soft care and good intentions.  
With all this compounded- Nancy taking his side to egg him on, the heroin, the babying him- Sid's behaviour was getting worse and worse. Hence John wanting to wring his neck every time he acted like he was so high and mighty or whined when things didn't go his way.  
Oh yeah, that was another lovely little trait Sid had picked up from dear Nancy. Whining.  
And, holy fucking shit, did he do it a lot.  
It had been a long-ass day. They had a gig the night before that dragged until 4 in the morning, and they were leaving for their next gig at six. They were all dragged out of their respective beds, running on an hour and a half of sleep, and were loaded into the tour bus only to sit in traffic for close to the entire day. The next place they were staying at was a four hour drive of so, but with London traffic it was almost ten. They finally arrived (and thank God Malcolm had booked an actual hotel intsead of just getting them to flop at some friend-of-a-friend's house) and John, who was in a solidly bad mood, trudged up to his hotel room and was asleep before his head hit the pillow.  
John awoke around midnight, going from feeling like shit because he was stiff and tired to now feeling like shit because he had slept in the same set of clothes twice and because he hadn't eaten all day. When he rolled over to check the analog clock on the end table, he became vaugley aware of another person in the room. Upon seeing the clock said 12:24 AM and hearing the other person rustling around, he Pavlov'd himself into thinking he was late for a gig and shot up from bed, still only half-concious. He then looked around to see Sid was splayed out on the chair across from the bed, idly smoking a cigarette and dipping in and out of dozes. "What's the rush?" Sid asked dully, Johnny's reaction bringing him to a bit more.  
John remembered that, after a notable amount of heming and hawing from all four of them, they had convinced Malcolm to push back their gig a night so they could have a night to themselves. He rose up from bed, noticing that he had never taken his shoes off, and stretched out. Too awake to go back to bed but too tired to go out and pick up a girl or some shit, he ambled over to the bathroom to wash the sour taste of sleep out of his mouth.  
While he was doing such, he noticed Sid dritfing in the doorframe, not trying to mask his awkwardness. "Can I help you?" Johnny asked after spitting into the sink, patience not at an all time high.  
Sid almost dropped his cigarette. "Uh."  
"Good talk, there, Sidney," Johnny muttered, turning off the faucet and pushing past his lanky friend. Sid followed, John sitting on the bed and Sid sitting on the arm of the chair he was in before. "What brings you here, anyway? You lonely or some shit?"  
Sid dropped the spent cig onto the carpet, letting it smoke for a second before putting his boot over it. "No. 'S just there's nowhere else to go."  
"The hell are you talking about? You're Sid fuckin' Vicious, you can go wherever you want."  
Sid let out a tiny "hmph." "Well, other's are out with girls n' shit n' said they didn't want me taggin' along 'cause I'd scare 'em away. 'S bollocks," Sid pouted. "Girls love me."  
John made something close to an affriming noise.  
"Y'know, Jonesy's been gettin' real high n' mighty lately. He's been snappin' at me this n' that, said he was gonna tape up the frets on my base-"  
"You can't play," Johnny deadpanned.  
"Well, maybe 'm not very good, but still it's not his fuckin' place-"  
"You're in a band with him 'nd you can't play. How's it not his place?"  
"'Cause I can do things fine on my own."  
John sat up slightly. "No you fuckin' can't, you're absolutely dysfunctional! How haven't you noticed?"  
"Fuck off! I've handled myself before. 'M not gonna listen to you, all you do is bitch about what I do wrong!"  
"Bitching? I'm the one bitching? You fuck off, Sidney, all you do is whine and complain."  
"The fuck's that suppose to mean?"  
"Means exactly what it sounds like. All ya do is make a big show outta everything 'nd pout like a fuckin' toddler when things don't go your way. Yer a fuckin' spoilt brat," Johnny spat, the rant the product of pent-up frustration.  
Sid went silent. John looked up, kind of regretting his words but eager to see how Sid would respond. Sid's hands were balled at his sides, face in a scowl, mouth curled in a half sneer. John realized he had struck a chord and his mouth unwillingly curved into the start of a shit-eating grin. If there was one thing John loved, it was stirring up a reaction.  
Sid saw John look up, got to his feet and punched John square in the jaw.  
Sid wasn't the strongest, nor was he very good at fighting. But a sock in the face was a sock in the face, and it caught Johnny off guard. Rather than fight back right away, John hissed at the ache and chuckled darkly, following it up with a taunting "See? Yer just provin' my fu-" Before John could finish, he recieved another punch to the shoulder.  
John went low, using his shorter stature to his advantage, and punched Sid in the ribs. He recoiled, and John moved swiftly, pinning the taller boy up against the wall, wrists held over his head and Johnny's leg pressed over Sid's, his thighs in a dead hold. John's experience of fistfighting with his siblings had come in handy, it seemed, as Sid tried to wriggle away with little avail.  
"All you're doing," Johnny continued, as Sid contined to brace against his restraints, "is proving my fucking point. You're throwing a tantrum like a child, fighting with me when I tell you what you don't wanna hear... you're such a fucking brat I almost feel bad for pinning you." Sid let out something between a whine of aggression and a growl, managing to pull his hands up from the wall only to have them pushed back against it with a dull thud. "What would people say, huh, Sidney? Big, scary Sid Vicious gettin' pinned by some kid three inches shorter than 'im, while he writhes around and cries 'bout it like-" Once again, Johnny's gloatful tyraid was cut off by Sid managing enough stregnth to push John off his lower section. John, after being pushed off, let go of Sid's wrists. Sid seized the oppurtunity and pushed him over.  
John let out an "oof" and fell backwards, banging his head on the metal bedframe. The muted metal clank only seemed to make the wound hurt more, and Johnny saw Sid relent for a moment. After a second of waiting for his vision to return and reorienting himself, he growled an angry "now 'm fuckin' pissed" and threw his entire weight at Sid's legs.  
Sid, who had been momentarily dazed by the sound of Johnny nearly cracking his head open, yelped and fell against the wall with a thud loud enough to wake the entire hotel. With Sid down, Johnny got back up and lifted Sid to his feet by his hair. On the brink of going absolutely feral, he threw Sid in the direction of the bed, hoping to recreate similar trauma to what had happened to John. He missed, but Sid was left against the side of the bed, not daring to get up, John seeing a flicker of fear in his eyes.  
It was over. John had won, and Sid was at his disposal. He considered for a moment what he would do with the boy. He had been acting like a child, and his temper tantrum deserved some form of discipline. He thought back to his younger years, what his mother would do when one of her children misbehaved. A small smirk appeared on John's face, and he saw Sid's pupils dilate a bit. It was over for Sidney.  
Johnny pushed Sid aside, sitting on the bed so he's next to where Sid's sitting on the floor. Without a word, he picked Sid up by his greasy hair once more forcing him into a standing position. The younger replied in a whimper once he's on his feet, but John doesn't release him, leaving him bent down do he's only slightly above eye level with John.  
"Bend over." Johnny doesn't expect Sid to comply, but lo and behold, he did. He scrambled over John's lap, knees pressed to the carpet and laying slightly a bit diagonally so his chin is against the bed, giving his head something to rest on. John decideded this isn't goon enough and strongarmed Sid's head down further, so that his face was flush against the cigarette-burned sheets. John then pulled Sid's arms up onto his back and pinned them, trapping them beneath his elbow as his palm keeps Sid's head down.  
Once he deemed Sid secure, he brought his free palm down, hard, on Sid's bony ass.  
Johnny watched in satisfaction as Sid cringed back from the sudden blow, letting out a sound between a squeal and a sob. John moved his hand down Sid's neck so he could lift his head up. Sid seized the leeway and takes a shaky breath, the back of his ears and neck red with a flush of what John guessed was embarassment.  
Right when Sid seemed to have recovered from the last blow, John dealt another one, as close as he can get to the mark of the last. Sid whined and pushed his hips against John's legs. He dealt another slap, giving Sid less time to recover, and Sid let out the sob-like sound again. John gave him another firm whack, this time to Sid's thigh, and Sid pushed his head into the bed willingly, hiding his face. John, who wasn't much concerned with restraining him anymore, put his hand back in Sid's hair, giving it a yank. Sid brought his now free arm around the side that wasn't pressed against John, hiding his mouth and nuzzling into it, shaking like mad. John timed another slap with a tug at Sid's hair. Close to overstimulation, Sid mewled, the highest sound John's ever heard leave the bassist's mouth.  
John gave another spank, aiming roughly over where he first hit Sid. Judging by the way his victim responded, as he let out a shaky cry and moved his hips more sharply. "You're such a little-" Flat slap to the ass, "-fucking brat. I hope that you-" Another to the ass, "-fucking know that. All you do is complain about what-" Blow to the thigh, more the heel of his hand than he intended, but Sid cried out so he didn't apologize, "-about what you think you fucking-" flat to the thigh, "-deserve. You wanna know what you deserve, Sidney?" Another stroke, this time to the ass again, "This is what you fucking deserve. Put in your-" he must hit him right this time, because there's a cracking sound, slightly muffled by Sid's pants, "-fucking place. You wanna act like a snotty little kid? You're gonna get-" Sid made his soblike squeak again, the abused flesh of his thighs getting another blow, "-disciplined like one. And look at you, eh? You're eating it up. I bet you like the attention, you bratty whore."  
With that final statement, John gave Sid's tender ass another strike and his hair a particularly rough yank and Sid was gone. Sid's hips bucked forward as he let out a whiny moan, going rigid for a second, then completely relaxed.  
John released Sid's hair, which was now even more mussed than before, and felt a pang of remorse. He rolled up Sid's shirt a bit and started rubbing Sid's back. Sid, still blissed out, sighed at the touch. "...'m sorry," he muttered, turning to lay on the side of his face. Johnny was too caught up in his thoughts to realize he was probably one of the only people Sid Vicious ever apologized to.  
John was quiet for a minute. "...Nah, don't bother. 'S my fault. Shoulda controlled myself," he muttered, deepening the circles he rubs on Sid's pale back. He did feel terrible, letting it escalate that much. Stirring the pot to begin with. Throwing Sid around. Going so feral with him. But he didn't excpet Sid to comply... didn't expect things to go this off the tracks...  
"No," Sid said suddenly, fidgeting around under John's touch. "'Cause... uh..."  
"Oh," John replied awkwardly, putting the pieces together. "Right." He let Sid get up, sparing him the embarassment of having to say "I creamed myself because my best mate was spanking me and calling me a slut".  
Sid ducked into the bathroom, and John leaned back on the bed, still feeling somewhat remorseful. He heard Sid cussing, water running, something made of glass breaking (he doesn't want to know), and after a bit Sid shyly asked if John has any spare pairs of trousers.  
John rustled through his bag and emerged with the only other pair he packed, jeans that are slightly less tight than the ones he had on. John tossed them into the bathroom without looking at Sid, although at this point he wondered how much harm it could do.  
Sid emerged some time later, wearing the jeans John gave him. They were short on him, not quite covering his ankles, but he was so skinny they still manage to be loose on him. He plopped down on the bed, not minding his sore ass and cringing when he hit the matress. Without really thinking about it, John turned over on his side, Sid slotting in against him, nuzzling his face into Johnny's neck. Unsure what else to do, he raised his hand up and tangled it in Sid's hair. This wasn't the first time they'd done this, but was the first time they'd done... well... //that//.  
Sid kissed his neck and John gave his hair a little tug in response (Sid likes getting his hair pulled, he knew that now). Sid chuckled softly and put a hand on John's hip. "Turn 'round," he murmured.  
"Why?"  
"'Coz I want you to. It's the least you could do, c'mon." Johnny huffed but complied, pulling away from Sid, rolling over and coming face to face with him. Sid gave a tiny smile and inquired "better?" and John kissed him.  
Compared to everything else that's happened, this was the softest thing that had happened that night. Sid kissed slow, sluggish, John with a bit more vigor, but still drained of energy for the time being. Johnny was generally against kissing hookups, but was this really a hookup? This whole night seemed more like an ill-fated power fantasy turned excuse to burn off sexual tension.  
They broke the kiss slow, like both of them knowing they should let up even though they don't want to. Sid caught John's bottom lip between his teeth for a moment, then broke away. "You've never kissed me before," he observed, and that's exactly what it seems like- as if he's just making a statement. A smile found its way onto his stupid face and John groaned.  
"What?" Sid inquired, and John takes one of Sid's hands, fans it open, and presses it to his own lower stomach. He pressed his hard-on against Sid's stomach. "This is what you fuckin' do to me," Johnny muttered. "All you have to do is fucking smile and touch me and i lose my shit."  
Sid smiled. "Mabye next time 'round we can do somethin' 'bout that, yeah?"  
"Who says there's gonna be a next time?" John was baiting, and he knew it.  
Sid slid his hand further down Johnny's hips, running his finger over John's clothed erection. John growled and Sid smiled. "Hm, dunno, but this says a lot, doesn't it?" He withdrew his hand. "'Nd I think I know how to get you riled up now, too."  
John made an "mmgh" sound. "Don't test me, brat."

**Author's Note:**

> Well, that was a ride.  
> Also because I'm a big fat idiot some of this was written in present tense as opposed to past tense and I edited this a 3 am so if you catch any words that don't line up with the tense or any mistakes like "maked" or "sayed" that's why lmao  
> Wanna send some love? Came up with a prompt? Picked up on an editing error? Wrote a thesis on why I'm an awful person? All are welcome! Drop 'em in the comments.  
> Also, kudos are my life blood and motivate me to write more awful stories. It only takes a second to drop one and i really appreciate it xx  
> Stay safe and cheers!


End file.
